He had spoken the word. Indulgent, that was it. He let me speak, probably had
let me speak from the first, from pure kindness. He did not believe one little
bit in my good sense or logic. But I was not to be deterred. I would empty my
mind of the ugly thing that lay there. I would leave there no miserable dregs
of doubt to ferment and work their evil way with me in the dead watches of the
night, which I had yet to face. So I took him at his word.
“I only want to ask this. In case Sears is innocent of the crime, who wrote the
warning and where did the assassin get the stiletto with the Grey arms chased
into its handle? And the diamond? Still the diamond! You hint that he stole
that, too. That with some idea of its proving useful to him on this gala
occasion, he had provided himself with an imitation stone, setting and
all,—he who has never shown, so far as we have heard, any interest in
Mrs. Fairbrother’s diamond, only in Mrs. Fairbrother herself. If Wellgood is
Sears and Sears the medium by which the false stone was exchanged for the real,
then he made this exchange in Mr. Grey’s interests and not his own. But I don’t
believe he had anything to do with it. I think everything goes to show that the
exchange was made by Mr. Grey himself.”
“A second Daniel,” muttered the inspector lightly. “Go on, little lawyer!” But
for all this attempt at banter on his part, I imagined that I saw the beginning
of a very natural anxiety to close the conversation. I therefore hastened with
what I had yet to say, cutting my words short and almost stammering in my
eagerness.
“Remember the perfection of that imitation stone, a copy so exact that it
extends to the setting. That shows plan—forgive me if I repeat
myself—preparation, a knowledge of stones, a particular knowledge of this
one. Mr. Fairbrother’s steward may have had the knowledge, but he would have
been a fool to have used his knowledge to secure for himself a valuable he
could never have found a purchaser for in any market. But a fancier—one
who has his pleasure in the mere possession of a unique and invaluable
gem—ah! that is different! He might risk a crime—history tells us
of several.”
Here I paused to take breath, which gave the inspector chance to say:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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